Online Game: I Turn Monsters Into Food 10,000x Buffs

Liam’s hips faltered, a pulse of pleasure stalling his thrusts for a split second before his body surged up with animal force. His hands gripped Midnight’s waist, hauling her down on top of him, burying himself so deep she gave a strangled gasp. Every part of him strained to stay present, to keep gentle, but the thought, Midnight’s body trembling, her belly swollen with his child, unlocked a hunger he’d never let himself feel. His cock throbbed, ready to spill, and Midnight’s claws dug into his shoulders, her head thrown back in wild abandon.

"Take it," he growled, barely recognising his own voice. "Take all of it."

She bucked desperately, feet kicking at the tent floor, her moans rising as if she needed the world to hear. "Yes, Master, fill Midnight, haaah- please, breed her, make her yours, make-"

Liam thrust up once more, burying himself as deep as her body would allow, and felt the orgasm tear through him, his cock pulsing in long, rhythmic throbs, each one pushing a hot rush of seed into her. He held her pinned down against him, unable to move, unable to breathe, his whole body shuddering with the force of it.

Her legs squeezed together, her back arched sharply, and she let out a piercing cry that echoed through the tent. Her tongue lolled out as she shuddered, her body convulsing against his with such force that she slipped off his still-throbbing cock.

Liam watched her, transfixed, as she trembled through the aftershocks. Her smile bloomed across her face, eyes half-lidded and satisfied.

"Master," she whispered, "Midnight is so happy."

He didn’t know how to answer. Nobody in his life had ever been happy because of him, not really. Liam wrapped his arms around her anyway and let the silence be his reply.

For a long moment, nothing existed outside their small, tangled universe of skin and sweat and the quiet, sticky mess leaking out of her onto his thighs.

"Midnight will clean Master now, okay?" she said, voice still breathless.

Before he could form a response, she had already slid down his body, her tongue flicking out to catch the mixture of their fluids still leaking from him. Her movements were methodical, almost worshipping, as she cleaned every drop from his softening cock. Each stroke of her tongue sent small shivers through his oversensitive body.

When she finished, she rolled back into his arms, nestling against his chest with a contented sigh. Her tail wrapped possessively around his thigh.

"Master tastes good," she murmured, pressing her cheek against his pectoral muscle. "Midnight likes keeping Master clean."

Liam ran his fingers through her hair, uncertain of the protocol for this situation. In the game, everything had been straightforward—stats, quests, clear objectives. But this? This was uncharted territory.

"You don’t have to do that," he said finally, his voice a low rumble in his chest.

Midnight looked up at him, her expression genuinely confused. "But Midnight wants to. The master gave Midnight pleasure. This is how Midnight shows gratitude."

"Sleep," he told her, pulling the blanket over them both. "We need to be ready for tomorrow."

Midnight nodded, curling tighter against him. "Midnight will protect Master while he sleeps."

"Master?" Her voice was barely a whisper, already thick with exhaustion.

"Shh." He kissed her again, letting his lips linger against her skin. "I’ve got you."

Her body relaxed completely against his, going boneless and trusting in a way that made something tighten in his chest. He could feel the wetness between them cooling, the cum still slowly leaking out around his shaft with each subtle shift of their bodies.

"From now on," he said quietly, his mouth moving against the back of her neck, "I’m going to look after you. No one’s going to hurt you again. Not ever."

Midnight made a small sound, not quite a word, something between a sigh and a whimper. Her hand found his where it rested on her stomach and laced their fingers together.

"It’s going to be okay," he continued, his voice low and steady. "You’re safe with me."

He felt the tension he hadn’t even realised she was carrying drain out of her shoulders. Her grip on his hand tightened briefly, then loosened as sleep began to pull her under.

"And the people who hurt you before?" Liam’s voice dropped, taking on a harder edge that he didn’t bother to soften. "I’ll find them. Every single one of them. And they’ll wish they’d never touched you."

Somewhere outside, a monster roared in the distance. Liam’s ears twitched, tracking the sound, but he didn’t move. Whatever it was, it was far enough away. Midnight slept on, undisturbed, her small body rising and falling against his chest.

Liam stared at the tent ceiling, his mind processing what had just happened. In the real world, he would have been awkward, uncertain, and probably said something stupid. But here, in this strange new existence, something felt different. He felt different.

And on the howl of the wind, he thought he heard something faint, yet unmistakable. Rogue’s voice, echoing through the dark forest, shouting, "You tell that glitching chef I heard every damn moan, he’s been having a hell of a time while I’m out here freezing my ass off! I hate his guts, you hear me? I hate him! Always so clueless, always so lucky! He’s nothing but a damn NPC, and I’m out here—I’m..." The voice devolved into a garbled mess of curses and grumbles, each word dripping with envy and bitterness. Liam’s eyebrows shot up, his body tense as he listened for more, but the wind shifted, leaving Rogue’s words hanging like an unfinished recipe.

[Tool Tip]:

Status: Ambient Temperature: Freezing (For Rogue).

The "Tongue Janitor" Routine: Midnight initiating the manual cleaning protocol on Liam’s hypersensitive, softening chef-shaft has triggered a [Severe Vocabulary Deficit] inside his brain. The system notes that her methodical, third-person worship-licking has completely bypassed all standard post-combat guidelines.

The Glitched Slit Reflex: Midnight’s body convulsing with such biological force that her tongue lolled out while she slid entirely off his throbbing length has locked in the [Asexual Logic Deflation] achievement. Liam is now trying to calculate emotional intimacy metrics while actively covered in localized draconic leakage.

The Distant Wolf Manifesto: Rogue screaming hyper-jealous, frostbitten obscenities from three miles deep in the dark pines has introduced a [Pure Copium Shockwave] to the system. His voice shifting from coherent rage to a garbled mess of "I hate that lucky NPC" proves his mental stability has permanently dropped to 0%.